Jenny’s story sounded like a Stephen King novel. Linda hadn’t noticed any “energy.” Although as odd as Jenny seemed the woman projected a calmness and trust that Linda had sensed from few in her life. She felt a sudden need to open up and pent up feelings poured out like water through a ruptured dam.
TWINS by Marie, Part 12 - Jenny
by Marie C.
Jenny’s two story clapboard lies on the west side of the square between Nicasio Valley Road and the creek bank. Willows and buckeyes surround the house in a nearly impenetrable thicket. The dense vegetation is relieved somewhat by a small vegetable and herb garden tucked against the side of Jenny’s house. Behind the garden is a wire-fenced area for chickens and a goat. Tall bay trees shade the creek on the west side concealing a hideous new upscale housing development.
The two-lane roadway skirts the square effectively cutting the tiny settlement in half. Vehicle traffic is rarely heavy although locals frequently do forty-five to fifty miles an hour as they head into the S-curve. Crossing the road on foot pedestrians have to keep their eyes peeled.
A decade ago the plaza was converted into a rustic community baseball diamond complete with wire backstop. Nineteenth century wooden buildings flank the perimeter - the Catholic Church, the Rancho Nicasio restaurant, a remodeled Druid’s Hall and a half dozen houses like Jenny’s in greater or lesser states of decline. Behind the houses fenced grazing lands extend for a mile in every direction into the surrounding hills except for the grounds around the expensive new homes. Above the church on the east side of the road and on a low hilltop is Linda’s old house.
The atmosphere of the tiny settlement is sleepy except on weekends when the Rancho features bands and singers from all over. City folk come looking for a night in the country and a few invariably take their good times outside onto the square. Once in a while they cross the bridge into the backyards of the fancy new homes and annoy the wealthy newcomers no end.
North past the square homes and animal enclosures extend for another quarter mile to the original and very picturesque one room school house built in the 1870s. Beyond that is the new school resembling nothing so much as a state minimum security facility. For three miles between the school and the Petaluma-Point Reyes Road there are dairy farms, beekeepers and the Nicasio Reservoir.
Jenny is gray haired with light olive skin, probably in her sixties, a chunky five feet four but still a handsome woman. Her mother once told her she had a Miwok Indian ancestor, one of the tribe that lived here two hundred years ago.
She prefers caftans, smocks, baggy pants, sandals, beads and long straight hair tied back. She may be leftover from a back-to-nature movement dating from the 1960s, but nobody seems to know or care. When it runs she drives an ‘87 Chevvy and shops at the supermarket near Forest Knolls. Occasionally she strolls across the road to the Rancho for a late sandwich and Bloody Mary. She complains that walking gets harder every year.
Jenny was standing on her back porch tying plants into bundles when Linda knocked. “Come in,” she called not looking at the door involved as she was in twisting one last knot. Linda stepped through and, while Jenny was still looking away and busy with cuttings, was greeted with “I guess you’ve come about your nephew.”
Hearing this Linda felt like she had been hit with a brick. “How did you know? We’ve never seen each other before.”
Jenny finally looked up. “Come and sit,” she said hanging the last of unidentifiable bundles on a drying rack. “I’ll brew a pot of tea and try to explain.”
At the table Jenny went on. “I’ve been feeling it for a while. I can see your house from here and watched you both as the boy moved in. I know about your daughter.” Linda’s eyes filled with tears.
“I’ve lived here for twenty-eight years. A long time ago I became aware of a natural energy in the area which seems to confuse some people. The energy’s been here a long time and will probably be here longer. I have no idea where or what it comes from or even what it is. Maybe there are elements in the earth that produce the effect. The Indians knew about it before the Spaniards came. There are supposed to be places like it all over the world although I’ve never been to any.
Going on she said “I’ve learned from various accounts that if a person is physically and mentally strong not much happens if he or she spends any time around these locations. If the person is a child, a weak personality or under some kind of strain and ends up near a place like your hilltop, then things can happen. From some accounts others gather strength from these locations. That’s part of it. The rest of it is what you’ve been through.”
“I’ve come to believe that I’m here because of it, although at first I thought I came because I wanted a quiet country life. By now I think I’ve been appointed as an involuntary witness to what it can do, though I keep hoping it’s more than that. That’s how I sensed something happening at your house. This must sound like complete garbage, but it’s the best I can do. Maybe someday I’ll know more.”
Two cats meandered into the kitchen. One rolled on the floor, the other hopped up on the counter. “That’s Diablo, the tiger stripe, on the sideboard. Persephone’s the calico.” Jenny reached down and scratched Persephone’s tummy. After a minute the cat came over and brushed back and forth against Linda’s legs. Diablo stared intently at Linda from a distance, head down on his paws.
Jenny’s story sounded like a Stephen King novel. Linda hadn’t noticed any “energy.” Although as odd as Jenny seemed the woman projected a calmness and trust that Linda had sensed from few in her life. She felt a sudden need to open up and pent up feelings poured out like water through a ruptured dam.
She recounted every detail about Kirk ’s behavior, the dreams he described and her guilt in encouraging him to crossdress. She talked almost nonstop for more than an hour. Jenny sat there patiently, sympathetically listening the whole time without comment.
During a lull Jenny spoke the only time. “You miss your daughter very much.” Linda broke into tears and sobbed for what seemed like a long time. Jenny took her hand saying “There’s no shame in missing Marlene. It takes time.”
When Linda ran out of words Jenny began again. “From what you’ve said your nephew’s problem is not entirely your doing, if it is a problem. You have some part in his behavior because you took him in. For certain the both of you have been under enormous stress for quite some time.
“Lately you’ve encouraged him to crossdress, perhaps even overencouraged him, so the “energy” I talked about may be affecting both of you without your knowledge. And regardless of his complaints he seems to have some interest in presenting himself to the world as a girl. Whatever you’ve done I doubt if Kirk’s situation would have occurred without this peculiar set of circumstances.”
Linda said nothing. It had been a relief just to unload all the worries, doubts and guilt. She felt like a limp dishrag sitting there in Jenny’s easy chair and she wasn’t hearing very clearly although most of it would come back later.
“If at all possible I’d like to meet Kirk or Darlene as you say he’s called. Could both of you come tomorrow for an hour? I have clothes that need mending and altering. My figure is turning into a balloon and I need something that fits. Maybe the two of you can tell me what to do.
“Later you might have him stay a couple of nights. If you can do that I’ll know better about what’s going on. Oh, also, when you come could you please bring some photos of your daughter. That might help.” In her daze Linda agreed and set tomorrow after lunch for a second visit.
The following day Jenny watched as Kirk and his Aunt stepped through the gate. Linda wore jeans, T-shirt, jeans jacket and scarf. Her hair was in a curled page boy, perfect for the outdoor life of the valley. She was obviously well endowed and would be attractive to most men.
Next to her was a girl who looked about eleven or twelve, almost a juvenile copy. She had curly neck length hair and wore a crisp nylon blouse, pleated skirt and cardigan. Her hands were perfectly manicured. On her feet were Mary Jane flats and knee socks. She walked with a pleasing and graceful motion into which she had obviously been trained. If anything she was too neat and feminine unlike girls around the valley who often had to feed animals, operate machinery and yell at the farm hands. Jenny could not see anything remotely masculine about this child.
“Darlene, honey, this is Jenny. She has some clothes to be fixed, the ones I wanted you to look at. Do you remember?” As an aside Linda handed Jenny an envelope saying “These are the only snapshots I could find. Everything else is in frames.”
With a trace of a curtsy Kirk spoke gently. “Nice to meet you, Jenny,” and sat correctly in his chair knees together and skirt pulled down like a dutiful child waiting for two adults to go about their business.
“Would you like some lemonade and cookies, Darlene?” Jenny asked.
“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Gaithers.”
“You call me Jenny, you hear?” she said in mock anger. “Nobody calls me Mrs. Gaithers unless it’s the tax man.” She handed Kirk a glass and plate with the cookies.
He took the glass with one hand, the other stayed in his lap. Then one cookie. “Thank you Jenny.”
“What a sweet child, maybe too sweet. Other than the fact she’s a boy he must be a pleasure to have around.” She felt no inclination to call him Kirk. She always found it best to follow her intuition.
“My things are all upstairs, so when you’re done we can go up. Your aunt says you’re really good with clothes.”
Jenny was surprised by the child’s sober, adult sounding response. “Didn’t she tell you, she’s my mom now. She adopted me last month. I’m not used to calling her mom, but I try to remember. I’ll be glad to look at your clothes. Sometimes I have ideas about what mom should wear but she doesn’t always listen. That’s the way grownups are with kids aren’t they? ” He giggled a little and put his hand to his lips.
Upstairs Jenny pulled garments out of her closet that looked like leftovers from a homeless camp. Linda passed him a batch and said “Here, sweetie, would you check these for rips and tears while I take Jenny’s measurements?” Kirk made a face at the pile and began separating the damaged from the hopeless. He was done in minutes.
“These need to be fixed.” He pointed a delicately manicured finger at a small heap of blouses and sweaters. “These are rags,” indicating a second and much larger pile.
Jenny was amazed and thinking quickly added, “My daughter moved away years ago and I still have some of her things that need to be sorted. There may even be some dolls. Would you like to stay overnight and help me go through them?”
“If mom says it’s o.k. I haven’t been anywhere for awhile.” Kirk looked at Linda doubtfully.
Linda didn’t like the idea of being apart from Kirk because of Marlene’s disappearance. On the other hand she didn’t think Jenny would do any harm and the risk might be worth it. Anyhow he’d only be across the square. She needed to try something for Kirk’s sake - and for her own peace of mind.
“I think it would be a nice idea.” Linda said. “You spend way too much time in our old house.”
The young man stood in the Rancho parking lot next to his pickup truck with the hood up pretending to work on a stalled engine. He watched Linda and Kirk as they drove the short distance back from Jenny’s to the old house. The girl was a cousin to the other he’d learned. He thought about hiking up the low hill to scout the property but after watching a few days realized there were people who came and went at odd times. Chances were good he’d be seen.
“Better pass on this one,” he muttered to himself. “Besides, his pal said the woman was a cop’s old lady. The kid is really spooky. How can they look so much alike?” He slammed the hood, started the engine and drove off to another property near Petaluma he’d been watching for the past three weeks.
